


Life Is Just to Die

by Lintilla



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: . . . for now, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Andrea lives, Beta Wanted, Daryl Has Issues, Everyone lives, Hershel Lives, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Jimmy lives, M/M, Merle Lives, Milton lives, Oral Sex, Rick Needs a Hug, Season 3, Slow Build, season 2 finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintilla/pseuds/Lintilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Grimes is a hero to many people. Daryl Dixon is a hero to Rick Grimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The driver side door was stuck. It wouldn’t open. He couldn't get out like he'd planned.Well, _planned_ was a bit strong. It was more like _briefly considered_ before diving in head first. _This is the end._ Jimmy realized with startling clarity. _They're gonna eat me alive._

Time slowed down. Jimmy had read stories of near death experiences and people always said time warped in the moments preceding death. Funny enough, his thoughts went back to that book he read his last week in school. He had it with him at the Turn and found it again after settling in at the Greene's farm.  Eventually he lost track of how many times he reread it. A quote fluttered to the forefront of his mind.

 _He sought his former accustomed fear of death and did not find it. ’Where is it? What death?' There was no fear because there was no death._ _In place of death there was light._

Jimmy had never quite understood those words until that very moment.

Briefly, Jimmy's thoughts turned to Beth and he lamented never getting to say goodbye. She'd taken him in when he had nothing and her family accepted him as one of their own. She was a sweet girl and a fun girlfriend. While it had by no means been an epic romance, it was enjoyable.

 _At least the cop and his kid will get away._ It was a small comfort but the only one he had. He was going to die a hero. Sort of.

The walkers had him cornered, smashed against the unmoving door. The one closest, that was probably going to strike the first bite, had a familiar face. Jimmy could hardly believe it, but the walker was Verne Hollander, the school bus driver. The old man had kicked him off the bus in the seventh grade for kissing Jena O'Donnell with tongue. _It was worth it._ A couple weeks later he'd gotten to third base with her.

Death was looming. The fear had dissolved into introspection. Jimmy had a good life. He had friends, girlfriends, and a family. _But on the whole his life ran its course as he believed life should do: easily, pleasantly, and decorously._ Perhaps it was only fitting that he died at the hands of a fond memory from his youth. Jimmy laughed softly at the undead bus driver in front of him. _Enjoy it, you old cockblock._

But just before Mr. Hollander was about to take a bite out his ankle, Jimmy felt himself falling backwards. Before he knew what was happening, Jimmy found himself enveloped in a pair of strong arms.

"You alright, kid?"

Jimmy turned to look at the face of the man holding him. The cop. _He's the most beautiful thing_ _I've ever seen._

The kid's yell broke Jimmy out of his momentary daze. "Dad, we gotta go!"

"I'm fine . . . I'm OK," Jimmy sputtered.

Rick helped him to his feet and pushed him to run ahead, away from the burning barn. Blood pumped loudly in Jimmy's ears, deafening him to all else. Up ahead, illuminated by the massive fire behind, Jimmy saw the farmhouse that had been his home since the Turn. Unsurprisingly, Hershel was out front taking down walkers with his shotgun. He wouldn't last long.

"We gotta go!" Rick shouted at Hershel.

Rick seemed determined to save everyone. Jimmy had wondered about him. After all those days of looking for the little girl, caring for his son, and helping to collect walkers for the barn, Jimmy wondered if the cop was actually as good a person as he made himself out to be. Watching him plead with Hershel to not give up his life, Jimmy decided he was better than he thought.

"This is my farm!" Hershel shouted.  
"Not anymore," Rick answered back.

"Mr. Greene, please, we need you," Jimmy said. "Beth needs you."

Hershel lowered his shotgun and nodded his understanding. He ran with them to the car. Rick's son begged that they go back for his mom, but Rick knew better. His son was the priority. _As it should be_. Jimmy thought with approval. Rick made the hard decisions. When the little girl came out of the barn as a walker, it had been Rick that put her down. Jimmy realized as they sped away from the overrun farm that he would follow this man anywhere.

 

* * *

 

 

Three months they had been on the road. They never settled anywhere for more than a week at a time. The farm had felt safe. There was no one nearby; they had food, water, and even guns. But Jimmy learned that it was only an illusion of safety. The walkers were slow and stupid but they had the numbers. It was far too easy to get overrun by them. Nothing slowed them, not hunger, pain, or the winter wind. 

Their group was surviving, barely. Some people were losing faith in Rick. Even his own wife would question his decisions. His son openly talked back to him. When he went scouting with the redneck, everyone gossiped about him. Jimmy never spoke up for him, but he never felt he had to. Rick was going to save them and they would feel stupid for having doubted him.

Lori was beginning to show. Her once flat belly protruded enough that Jimmy could no longer ignore it the way he had been. He always felt guilty when he looked at the bump with disdain. He tried to reason that it was because having a baby during the apocalypse was reckless. The baby would cry alerting every walker within a mile. It would need food and shelter that they just didn't have. But in his heart, Jimmy knew the truth. He was jealous.

Rick waited on her hand and foot because of that baby. Everything he did was to protect his wife and their unborn child. He neglected his own health and safety just so Lori could be more comfortable. He did all this and she scarcely looked at him. Back on the farm, he had never liked the woman but his dislike grew exponentially the colder she was to her husband.  Jimmy liked to believe that if anyone had ever doted on him that way, he would never be so cruel.

As Jimmy sat, whittling a point onto the wooden spear he was making, the redneck emerged from the woods, shaking water out of his hair.

"There's a creek back there that's runnin' clear. We cleaned out all the walkers so y'all might wanna get a bath in before dark."

Nobody jumped at the opportunity. A few people openly groaned. It was cold and there was a breeze. Even with the promise of being clean, freezing in the woods held little appeal. However, Jimmy was no stranger to cold water. As a boy scout he had taken a liking to polar bear swims and the thought of a dip in a creek sounded quite refreshing.

Jimmy stood and rummaged through his pack for his soap and a towel. As he picked up his new spear and turned to leave, he was not surprised he was the only one. 

After a few hundred feet, Jimmy heard the sound of flowing water and smiled at the familiarity. The only good thing about the winter was the water flowed smoother and cleaner. In summer time, many were practically bogs.

As he stepped through the clearing, the sight greeting him nearly took his breath away. Standing waist deep in the center of the creek was a very naked Rick Grimes. The effects of the afternoon sun and the steam rising from the water, painted the man with an ethereal glow. His tall, lean frame displayed his muscles as they rippled with each movement. Jimmy noted the way he could see the man's ribs and wished he could have known him before hunger had so cruelly stripped his body of any excess weight.

Part of him didn't want to disturb such a tranquil scene but another part urged him to move forward. As he took his first step, Jimmy cracked a patch of ice under foot, drawing Rick's attention.

"Hi, Jimmy," Rick said with a smile so bright it was nearly blinding. "I was wondering if anyone would join me. I was beginning to suspect Daryl and I were the only ones who liked the cold."

Jimmy seemed rooted to the spot and tried desperately to think of a response. He had never been alone with Rick. They were always grouped together. Being alone outside of camp was too dangerous. Jimmy realized this was his chance to finally speak to Rick and tell him how much he appreciated his leadership. He could tell him that he trusted the man and believed he knew what was best. At the very least, he could thank him for saving his life that night on the farm.

However, all Jimmy managed was, "I was feelin' stinky."

 _DAMMIT!_ Jimmy screamed internally.

Rick chuckled and said, "Yeah, me too. It's hard to keep clean nowadays."

Jimmy nodded dumbly as Rick turned back around and dunked his head to wash out the soap. With a pathetic dearth of grace, Jimmy began to wrestle out of his own clothes. Once he'd managed to rid himself of his shirt, Rick began walking back to shore. Jimmy fought off the overwhelming urge to stare as Rick emerged from the water.

As Jimmy fumbled with the intricacies of his belt, his mind raced. In high school and boy scouts, Jimmy had seen plenty of his friends naked, but he had never felt this awkward. _But those were boys,_ Jimmy realized. _Rick is a man._   Rick wasn't just any man. Rick was a hero, a father, and a leader. Rick was the type of man other men wished they were. Jimmy never felt more like a stupid child in his entire life.

Jimmy decided he needed to look. He needed to see what a _real_ man looked like. _Rick isn't shy about nudity,_ Jimmy thought. Rick didn't seem uncomfortable one bit. Perhaps he wouldn't mind if Jimmy snuck a look. But by the time Jimmy had mustered the courage to turn around, Rick was already dressed and reattaching his gun holster.

Jimmy was surprised at the level of disappointment he felt.

Rick gathered his towel and soap then turned to Jimmy and said, "I'm headin' back. Are you gonna be alright on your own?"

Jimmy nodded and squeaked, "Yes, Mr. Grimes."

"It's Rick and just holler if you need anything."

Jimmy wanted to crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and waded into the freezing creek. In all actuality, the water was warmer than the air and felt quite soothing. As Jimmy scrubbed away at the week's worth of dirt, he couldn't shake the image of Rick's naked back. For an instant, he imagined himself running his tongue along the freshly cleaned skin. He could almost feel Rick's strong arms holding him again like the night he rescued him. He imagined Rick's calloused hands sliding down his flank and grasping his hard cock.

A bird squawked loudly in a tree near the creek and brought Jimmy out of his day dreaming. Jimmy looked down and was surprised to find himself completely erect. He hadn't had an erection since leaving the farm. Too much misery and close company scared anyway any erotic thoughts he could have possibly had. He and Beth had done nothing more than hold hands. Jimmy realized with a startling clarity that Rick Grimes had woken something in him. Taking a hand to himself, Jimmy let his thoughts of Rick bring him to completion.

Jimmy took his time after that and thoroughly washed himself. There seemed to be no walkers about and he had no idea when he'd manage to be alone again. By the time he dragged himself out of the creek and pulled on his clothes, the sun was beginning to set. Winter meant shorter days and longer nights. He hoped they would have something hot for dinner or that they would have dinner at all.

As he entered the camp, he noticed Glenn and Hershel gathering their things. When they saw him, Hershel let out a long sigh of relief. Glenn said, "What took you so long? We were about to go out looking for you."

The redneck was sitting against a tree, fletching a bolt. He said loudly, "He's a teenager. What'ya _think_ he was doin'? I toldya he was gonna be fine. Just needed some time alone."

Several people giggled at the comment and Jimmy flushed furiously.

Carl asked in confusion, "What _was_ he doin'?"

His mother, who was clearly annoyed at the joke, said, "Nothing. Daryl thinks he's being funny."

Daryl snorted and continued with his work, glaring at Lori's back. Jimmy looked around for Rick, hoping the man hadn't seen him humiliate himself yet again. To his relief, Rick was standing at the other end of the camp, staring off into the woods. His good mood from earlier completely gone as if it had never been there. Jimmy could barely resist the urge to go over to him. Instead he sat down next to Beth who was still grinning about the redneck's joke.

"Shut up," Jimmy muttered with no actual hostility.

"It was funny," Beth giggled. She then leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. Jimmy thought back to his fantasies at the creek and was taken with a wave of guilt.

 

* * *

 

They had taken up residence in a motel off the main road. Although the old man never said it, Jimmy knew Hershel did not want him staying the night with Beth. Jimmy took a room with T-Dog and Carol shared with Beth, but Carol went to talk with the redneck on watch. Jimmy snuck in when Hershel closed his door. Beth was sitting crossed legged on the bed, writing in her journal. She gave a little smile when Jimmy entered and patted the spot next to her on the bed.

Jimmy sat down and began his rehearsed words by saying, "Beth, we need to talk."

"Talk? Uh-oh, are you breakin' up with me?" Beth asked.

Jimmy wrung his hands and looked at the floor. "Yeah, 'spose I am."

"OK," Beth said. Her voice held a surprising nonchalance.

"OK?" Jimmy repeated.

"It ain't like we were married or nothin'," Beth said. Jimmy let out a sigh of relief. Beth touched his arm and asked, "Are you gay?"

Jimmy sputtered and said, "How . . . how'd you . . ."

"Mike Reston said you gave him a hand job freshmen year at Holly Vitner's party," Beth said. "He said you was really drunk and came onto him, but everyone always figured he was lyin'."

"Course he was lyin'," Jimmy said. "We was drinkin'. We kissed as a joke and I slapped his butt. That's it."

"Mike always was such a liar," Beth said. "He told everyone I got fingered by Miles O'Shaughnessy at homecoming."

"Wait, you didn't?" Jimmy asked.

"Of course not! Don't be gross," Beth said as she slapped his arm. She leaned in close and asked quietly, "So you _are_ gay then?"

Jimmy cringed at the word. He had never thought of himself in those terms before. Beth seemed to notice Jimmy's mortified face and said, "It's fine if you are. I ain't got any problem with it. Neither does Daddy. He says we all God's children."

Jimmy brought his hands up to his face at the thought of Hershel finding out. The man was like a second father and a preachy one at that. His own father had been a church-goer but it's not like he spouted bible verses like Hershel was prone to. 

"Is this something recent or had you thought about it before the . . . you know?" Beth asked.

Jimmy thought back to seeing Rick's naked back the week before. He then thought back to the feeling of those arms saving him and blushed as he said, "It's pretty recent."

"Well, I'm glad you told me and didn't let it fester. We got enough to worry about without struggling with our sexuality."

Jimmy groaned and rolled over, the embarrassment too much.

Beth giggled and said, "Now don't be like that." She laid down on top of his crumbled form and cooed, "Is there anyone in particular that you . . ."

When Jimmy refused to reply, Beth gasped and said, "Well now you _have_ to tell me."

She began poking at his ribs with her bony finger. Jimmy tried to roll away from her and said, "I ain't tellin' you nothin', 'cause nothin's gonna come of it. It's the apocolypse and life is hard enough without fallin' in love with a married man."

Immediately, Jimmy realized his mistake. He sat up and grasped Beth by the shoulders. Unfortunately, it had already clicked in her head. "Rick?" Beth asked far too loud.

"Shhh!" Jimmy said as he looked around nervously. For all he knew, the motel had thin walls. Jimmy whispered harshly, "I told you, ain't nothin' gonna come of it. It's a crush, that's all. He barely knows I exist."

Beth gave an exaggerated sad face and patted Jimmy's shoulder. She pulled him into a friendly hug, the kind girls give their friends at school. Jimmy could tell she was still mocking him. He tried to turn away dejectedly but Beth only giggled more.

"Just forget it," Jimmy spat.

Beth sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm being insensitive. But you should try to think positive."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. Beth continued, "No, really. Like you said, it's the apocalypse. The dead have risen and society has fallen. Maybe you and Rick ain't so farfetched."

"He's married," Jimmy grumbled.

"Yeah, but it ain't exactly happy. Maggie told me that Glenn said that the baby ain't even Rick's."

"What?" Jimmy said as he finally turned to face Beth.

"Yeah, she said that before Rick had found them, Lori was doin' it with Shane. Rick knows but he's pretending the baby's his anyway," Beth said using her _gossip_ voice. "And Carol said that Lori is still upset ‘bout Rick killin’ Shane." 

"Why? Everyone knew Shane was dangerous."

“I know, right?” Beth said. “You may actually have a chance."

"Well you know what my grandma used to say: _hope is a good breakfast but a bad supper_ ," Jimmy said.

"Your grandma only had two teeth," Beth said.

"She didn't trust dentists," Jimmy said with a shrug. "At least she died before all this went down."

"Only if we was all so lucky," Beth replied. Jimmy frowned at the memory of her despair back on the farm. "Don't look at me like that. I ain't gonna try suicide again. I don't wanna die if I'll come back as one of those things. I'm in it for the long haul now."

"Good," Jimmy said, wrapping an arm about her shoulder. "I like havin' you around."

Beth kissed Jimmy's cheek and nestled in closer. Unbidden, Jimmy’s thoughts went to Rick. He hoped the man was sleeping, he always looked so tired. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear: this is a Rickyl story at heart. Jimmy is not the main character. He'll only have one more chapter but much later on. Comments are welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Anyone that wants to follow me on Tumblr my address is http://laurenlena.tumblr.com/  
> I only post story related things and when a new chapter comes out.


	2. Chapter 2

_This isn’t a democracy._ The words rang through Rick's head the entire winter. A week after his bitter speech about leadership, he heard Carol whisper to Daryl the word _Ricktatorship_. Rick could always sense the fear and doubt from the group, but he was beyond the point of caring. If they wanted to look at him as a tyrant, he wouldn’t disagree. As long as he kept them safe, they could think anything they wanted about him.

The days were mild but the nights were cold. Snow seemed unlikely. He spent many of his evenings chatting with Hershel. The old man told him about a particularly cold winter in '59 when they had three inches. Roads and schools were closed, the airport grounded all flights, and Atlanta basically shut down. What Rick wouldn't give for a foot of snowfall to slow down the walkers. If anything, the winter made things easier for the undead. The swamps were slowing down and walkers could pass through without being stuck for days. 

They never settled in one place for long. After witnessing something as seemingly safe as Hershel's farm get taken down in a single night, nothing seemed secure. Traveling by car was too slow and dangerous. It seemed every few miles the road would be blocked with abandoned vehicles or a herd of walkers.

It was cold but not enough. It was as if they didn't have enough of anything. Food, shelter, clothing, weapons, gasoline. Mostly what Rick didn't have enough of was patience. Something had broken inside him when he killed Shane. There was no going back. If a cure were found tomorrow, civilization restored, and every one of their basic necessities met, Rick knew in his heart he was a changed man. The scars ran too deep. The repulsion in Lori's eyes too real.

Rick could stomach being a monster to the others in the group, the more they feared him the better, but he could not face Lori’s disapproval. He had been so certain she wanted him to get rid of Shane, but it was clear she was bothered by it. Her contempt passed onto Carl. The boy no longer held awe for his father that he had his entire life. Rick mourned that loss until the day Carl proved he no longer needed it.

"We've been through this house before," Carl said.

"No," Rick said. "They just look the same because it's a subdivision. They're all built by the same people."

"We've been here," Carl said pointing at a wall. "I drew that moustache on the photo over the fireplace."

Rick looked up and sure enough the father in the family portrait had a large, Stalin-esqe moustache drawn on with a Sharpie. With a weary sigh, Rick plopped down on the dusty sofa in defeat. Carl sat down next to him and fiddled with his the new silencer on his gun. Daryl had made that for him the week before.

"Mom says you don't know where we're going," Carl said. Rick held back a curse.

"She's right," Rick said. "We're treading water until we find something."

"Find what?"

"Anything," Rick said.

There was a long stretch of silence that Carl ended by saying, "Daryl told me not to talk back to you. He said I'd have nothing without you."

"That ain't true. You'd have your mother."

"And Shane," Carl muttered.

Rick jumped from the sofa and stalked out the front door. Carl joined him a minute later. The little fucker didn't even seem contrite. He just kept speaking, "Daryl says Shane was crazy and dangerous. He says that if you didn't kill him, he woulda done it for you."

Rick thought back to Dale's last moments. Daryl had put the old man down the second he noticed Rick hesitating. Perhaps he would've taken down Shane. He certainly held little regard for the man.

"Sometimes I really miss Shane, but other days I'm glad he's dead. He was really mean when he was mad," Carl said with a kick at the porch. Rick didn't like talking about Shane, especially with Carl. The feelings he had for the man were too confusing and painful. Carl fiddled with a loose railing as they waited for the others to finish in the houses they entered. After a few minutes, Carl said, “Daryl says I’m a brat.”

 _You are._ Rick wanted to say. He hated to think badly of his beloved son but he knew the boy was growing particularly obstinate. 

"He said that if he spoke to his daddy like I talk to you, his daddy woulda taken a belt to him."

Rick didn't doubt it.

"Why don't you hit me?"

"Do you want me to?"

Carl looked down and softly said, "No. I'm jus' wonderin' why you don't."

Rick sighed and tried to think of the appropriate words. "I can't make you respect me. Do you think Daryl likes his pa any better because he whooped him? I'm doin' the best I can and if you don't think it's enough, then smackin' you around ain't gonna change nothin'."

"I respect you," Carl said suddenly, sounding far less petulant. "I do. I just worry. You carry everything and you don't have to. We need you but we gotta learn to do things, 'cause you won't be around forever."

"Carl . . ." Rick started but Carl cut him off.

"You said it yourself. You'll die someday and there won't be some guy like Shane to try to take your place. So you gotta let others help you. You gotta let _me_ help you."

 _You wish Shane was still alive? That he'd killed me instead?_ Rick wondered but could not bring himself to ask.

“I know you don't like to think it but I'm older, I can shoot a gun, Daryl's teachin' me to hunt, and I won't always need you."

"Carl, what are you tryin' to tell me?"

"I like you,” Carl said. Rick turned in shock to look at his son. He was not sure what he was expecting to hear from the boy but that was not it. He continued with growing confidence, “We all like you. Hershel likes you, Daryl likes you, Jimmy _really_ likes you." Rick had to chuckle at that. The boy had developed a not-so-subtle hero complex. "We ain't just followin' you 'cause we got no choice or because we're scared. We're following you because you're leading. It's okay to pass it on to other people once in a while."

"What about your mom, does _she_ like me?" Rick said intending to tease his suddenly enlightened, advice-spouting son.

Instead, Carl hesitated. Something inside Rick dropped. "Mom . . . Mom's scared. She's scared for the baby and she ain't thinkin' straight."

"Carl-" Rick started but was interrupted by Daryl emerging from the house across the street and shouting, "I think we already did this block!"

Rick smiled and shouted back, "Yeah, think you're right. What's the plan?"

Daryl looked taken aback for a second and then shrugged, "I saw a creek out back. Wanna do some fishin'?"

"Sounds fine," Rick said as he patted Carl on the back. "You go back and check on your ma, I'll go with Daryl. We'll be back by nightfall."

Carl gave a nod with a small smile and jogged over to join Maggie and Glenn.

 

There was something inherently soothing about fishing. The bubbling creek and wind blowing through the branches as the only sound broken occasionally by a reel being brought in or cast out. There was no guilt in killing fish, not like there was with deer. Rick loved deer and hated seeing them shot, just like when Otis shot the deer along with Carl. He never said it though, because he knew they needed the meat.

They had found the equipment in the garages of the one the houses some weeks earlier and Rick was always ready to take off fishing for a few hours. Between working on the force, taking care of Carl, and spending time with Lori, Rick never found the time to fish. His father took him fishing nearly every weekend and those memories turned out to be some of the most treasured of his childhood. _I should’ve taught Carl to fish_. But it was too late, Carl found fishing boring and refused to do it with him after the first time. After that, Daryl became his fishing partner and Rick was grateful for the company.

Using worms for bait, Rick and Daryl stood on the banks of the creek in silence as they waited for a catch. Fortune seemed to be on their side because they caught not only two small mouth bass but a large catfish as well. As they walked back to the camp, they spoke quietly.

"If only we had some oil, we could fry these up proper," Daryl said. "My granddad had a fryer that could fit a whole pig. Whenever we killed sumptin' he'd fry it up and make us eat it. That's how I got a taste fer squirrels."

Rick smiled. It was incredibly rare for Daryl to relate anything about his former life and Rick always enjoyed it.

"I haven't had anything fried in three years," Rick said. "Lori read about the dangers of trans-fats and wouldn't allow 'um in the house. Said they'd kill me."

Daryl chuckled, "Yeah, you gotta watch out for that."

"I ain't had a smoke since before Carl was born. Once I went out with the boys from the precinct and came home smellin' of tobacco. She wouldn't believe I hadn't been smoking. Had to sleep on the couch for a week. Did a number on my back."

"There are times I woulda killed for a couch to sleep on. My old man said I had ta earn my keep. If he thought I weren't pullin' my weight, I had to sleep outside."

"What about that granddad of yours?"

"Where do ya think my pa learned it from?"

Daryl continued walking but Rick hanged back. When Daryl noticed, he turned around and gave a questioning look.

Rick rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Carl said you've been teaching him how to hunt."

Daryl immediately shifted into a more defensive position as he said, "Yeah, what about it?"

"Thank you," Rick said.

Daryl huffed, "Ain't nothin'."

"It is," Rick said. _Daryl told me not to talk back to you._ "I appreciate the help."

Daryl gave a small nod and turned back to resume walking. It was probably the effects of the setting sun, but Rick swore he saw a rise in the color on Daryl's cheeks.

 

* * *

 

It was a small movement, minute really, but Rick had been married long enough to know Lori had just recoiled from his touch. It wasn't the exaggerated pull she used when they were fighting or an accidental shudder from Rick sneaking up on her. It was an unconscious revulsion to physical contact. It hurt. It hurt more than Rick ever thought possible.

He'd crossed a line and they both knew it. No matter that it was in self-defense, Rick had committed murder and Lori could not forgive him. He often wondered if it weren't for the baby if they would even keep up the pretense of marriage. No one mentioned anything but Rick could see the expression on their faces. They knew better than to interfere. Even Carl realized something was wrong but he seemed content to pretend the same as his parents.

Rick had finished securing their new camp a few hours after nightfall and finally felt tired enough to sleep. As he lay down next to Lori, he reached out to caress her shoulder. Her reflex was small but it was there. Her eyes showed no anger but neither did they reflect warmth. It was as if a stranger had touched her accidently. Rick felt bile rising in his stomach.

Standing with a sudden urgency, Rick stumbled to the edge of the perimeter and ejected the meager contents of his stomach. Falling to his knees, Rick punched the ground in frustration.

"You alright there, Sheriff?"

Rick looked up to see Daryl watching him with concern.

"I'm OK," Rick said. He didn't even bother with an excuse.

Daryl nodded and turned away. Rick was surprised when a minute later he reappeared with a bottle of water. Daryl reached down and grabbed Rick's hand, pulling him up.

He guided Rick by his shoulder over to a tree stump. Rick sat on the makeshift chair and Daryl settled on the ground next to him. They sat in silence, listening the wind rustling dead leaves in the forest.

When he'd finally regained control of himself, Rick spoke softly, "Think we should head out in the mornin' or take a day to rest?"

Daryl quirked his head at the question and glanced oddly at Rick but finally answered, "A day's rest sounds good. Folks are tired."

With a resigned sigh, Rick said, "I don't even know where we're goin'. There seems to be nothin' out here."

"That's the way it was before all this undead shit so I don't 'spose anything should change."

Rick had to admit that Daryl's twang had grown on him. When they first met, the man had seemed like any other redneck criminal he'd come across, but things had changed. Rick wondered if perhaps _he_ had changed. He barely recognized his wife and son anymore. The only times when he felt anything close to comfort was when he knew Daryl was watching his back.

Rick supposed he should be cautious to trust after Shane but he somehow never doubted Daryl. _He never gave you anything to doubt._ Rick realized. Whereas every other member of their survival group seemed wary of Rick (with good reason), Daryl was increasingly friendly. As friendly as Daryl could be, at least.

Rick's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of twigs snapping. They both stood instantly and focused on the source of the noise.  About a hundred feet away, five walkers stumbled in the direction of their camp. Rick and Daryl turned to each other and nodded.

Rick often wondered how he could communicate so clearly with Daryl using no words. A single nod and they both understood to stand silently, flank the walkers from both sides, and kill them with knives. The more Rick considered it, the more he realized their silent communication was the most comforting thing he had anymore.

In near unison, Rick and Daryl launched into the pack of walkers. It was an odd number. The protocol for odd numbers was a tacit agreement. Often times, it reminded Rick of sharing wings or other appetizers with his friends. Who received the last one? Often times it defaulted to whoever won at darts. Sometimes it would be who had the last arrest. With Lori it was simple: Lori got whatever she wanted. Rick made his move if and only if she gave him the go ahead.

Daryl let Rick have the last kill whenever Rick needed it. Somehow, Daryl always knew. When Rick had been frustrated with a non productive day, if Carl had questioned his father's decision, if Lori had been particularly icy, Daryl took it as a sign that Rick needed the most kills.

It was one of those days and Daryl stepped back, signally Rick to take out the last walker. After plunging his knife into the skull of the putrid undead, Rick pulled back and lunged forward again. He shoved the head against the tree, smashing it like a ripe melon. The brain matter flying into his face didn’t even slow him down as he proceeded to eviscerate the miserable thing. The intestines broke forth from the walker’s spoiled gut and spilled onto the ground, splashing blood and entrails across Rick’s body.  All the months of frustration, the hunger, the guilt, and the sorrow surged out into the brutal, pointless slaughter of the creature.

After spitting out the bitter rotten flesh from his mouth, Rick stood back, panting. The walker's head was smashed beyond recognition. His own body was nearly covered in blood. His hunger weakened muscles ached at the exertion.

Rick finally turned to Daryl with the full expectation of a look of disgust or, even worse, pity. Instead, Daryl grabbed a nearby rock and plunged it into the head of another dead walker. He giggled as the head exploded with the impact and sprayed across the trees.

After standing and wiping the blood from his face, Daryl said, "They're startin’ to rot. It's slow, but their bodies is getting' softer. ‘Bout damn time."

"I wonder what it is that preserves the bodies so long?" Rick asked. "They should've rotted away within days, but I ain't seen no gas buildup, no evacuation of bowels, and no rigor mortis. They's rotten but not like a proper corpse."

Daryl grunted his reply but then cocked his head and asked, "What's rigga-mortis?"

"It's when the body gets all hard and stuff," Rick explained. As a small town deputy, his experience with dead bodies had been surprisingly high. Sometimes an elderly person would pass away and not be discovered until the neighbors complained of the smell. Sometimes people died while out hunting and their bodies were left to nature.

"Oh," Daryl said. "I didn't know that had a name."

"It's funny," Rick said. "That's where those myths of the chupacabra come from. People don't understand body decomposition and think animal corpses have been mutilated. Decaying is a nasty process."

"Chupacabras are real," Daryl said. "I seen one myself."

"Oh yeah?," Rick said with a chuckle. “I thought Chupacabras were from Mexico.”

"They's emigratin'. It's all a big government conspiracy. For all we know, they might be responsible for this whole mess."

Rick could only laugh harder at Daryl's sheer conviction.

"Fuck off," Daryl muttered, looking away.

"Sorry," Rick said as he tried to stop his laughing. "I'm sorry. It's just cute is all."

"Cute?" Daryl said looking suddenly mortified.

"You believin' in somethin’ like that. It's sweet."

Daryl grumbled and turned away, making Rick wonder if his face had flushed red again.

"Where you headed?" Rick asked.

"To that lake we passed earlier today. I don't know about you, but I don't wanna sleep covered in walker guts."

"Aren't you 'sposed to be on watch?"

"Nah, it's Carol's shift. I just couldn't sleep."

Daryl took off ahead and Rick smiled to himself. It seemed that those days the only times he smiled were with Daryl. In a span of five months, the man had become a better friend than Shane ever was. Rick followed after Daryl, deciding he didn't want to sleep covered in blood either. It was a clear night and the moon was bright enough to see most everything around.

The lake had a dock constructed on one end. It appeared to be handmade and was probably someone’s fishing spot before the Turn. It was too cold that night to jump in and swim so Daryl crouched at the edge of the water. Rick watched with what he realized later was too avid an interest, as Daryl stripped off his vest and the three shirts he had on underneath. Although it was dark, the moonlight illuminated enough for Rick to make out the curves of Daryl’s body. Unsurprisingly, his back had two large tattoos but what drew Rick’s attention was the mass of scars. He had seen them before but never took the time to really examine them.

Rick was all too familiar with domestic violence and he could read those marks like an open book. They were old, over twenty years, but deep, deep enough they would’ve bled when they were delivered. Most were delivered by a leather belt with a sharp metal buckle. Some were switches and others were cigarette burns. There were injustices everywhere in the world but none of them broke Rick’s heart like those inflicted on children.

He and Shane once answered a domestic call and discovered a man beating his five year old daughter. She was malnourished and had not left the house in three months. Shane pistol whipped the man until he was unconscious. Rick never reported it. The weak excuse that he _tripped and fell_ was more than enough to satisfy everyone at the station.

Rick briefly wondered if any of those marks on Daryl’s back came from Merle. But most likely, Merle had his own share. Based on what Daryl said about his father smacking him around, the scars came from his old man.

Daryl shook out the tank he had as his bottom layer and dunked it in the water. He used it to wipe the blood and viscera from his leather vest then put the other layers back on. He soaked the undershirt again and wrung it out so he could run it over his face and hair. When he was satisfied, he dunked the cloth again but this time rose and approached Rick.

He took in Rick’s appearance in the moonlight and chuckled, “Ya look like shit, man.”

When Rick didn’t respond, too engrossed in his thoughts to stammer anything, Daryl just sighed and proceeded to wipe away the blood for him. He was surprisingly gentle and paid close attention to Rick’s face and hair. For the rest of his chest and stomach, Daryl used broad, swiping strokes, mumbling about stains and _fuckin’ walker guts_.

To get at the blood adorning Rick’s legs, Daryl dropped to his knees. Rick’s stomach tightened at the sight and he desperately fought back the arousal stirring within. Daryl had been far too prominent in his thoughts of late and this display was pushing him to his limits. 

When Daryl grazed across his groin, Rick reached out and stopped his hand. Daryl looked up and waited for Rick’s response. Rick’s hand, trembling slightly, released Daryl’s wrist and moved to his cheek. The stare they exchanged lasted until Rick felt his knees going weak. He then released Daryl’s face and stepped away, saying, “Thank you. Thanks for helpin’ me clean up. I’m kinda a wreck tonight.”

Daryl rose to feet, dusting off the dead leaves and said roughly, “Ain’t nothin’.”

As they silently walked back to camp, Rick realized that they could have easily cleaned themselves without going to the lake. Daryl had known he needed to get away if only for an hour. Rick wondered what else Daryl knew he needed.

 

* * *

 

Daryl took Rick with him whenever possible. Even when they were with the whole group, Daryl stayed close as if he were protecting Rick from something. Lori once referred to Daryl as Rick’s _bodyguard_ and complained again that they never talked anymore. Rick asked what she wanted to talk about and Lori crinkled her nose, saying, “Nothing in front of _him_.” Rick was incredibly grateful that Daryl either didn’t hear or decided to ignore it.

The camp they set up was backed against a sound dampening fence near the highway. It was as close to security as they had found in months. After two days of securing a perimeter and recuperating from a harrowing week on the road, Daryl announced he had seen rabbit tracks and was going into the woods to set up snares. Of course, he asked Rick to come along as back-up.

The forest was thankfully empty that day and Rick looked around as Daryl worked. The area appeared to have once been a nature preserve but long since neglected. The tree next to Rick had an old engraving. When he and Lori were dating, they wrote their names everywhere. It only seemed right to shout to the world how much he loved that girl. His masterpiece was finding wet cement outside the library. As far as he knew, it was still there. He read out loud, "Tom ♥ Irene. June 14, 1969"

Daryl stopped his movements briefly and said, "Heh, 1969. The year I came screamin' into the world."

"69?" Rick asked in disbelief. "Shit, you're older than me."

"Oh yeah? What year were you born?" Daryl inquired as he went about setting a snare.

"73," Rick said.

Daryl shrugged, not seeming to care, but Rick was in shock.

"What's your secret?" Rick asked, scrutinizing Daryl's appearance. "You don't look a day over 35."

"Genetics," Daryl said. Rick gazed at curiously. Daryl stood and wiped the dirt from his hands. "Ya see, my ma drank enough booze while she was pregnant that it acted as a preservative. I'm like a human pickle. Only downside was that I was born three weeks early and dyslexic."

Rick noticed the small grin on Daryl's face and laughed. Daryl's smile widened. However, Rick also felt a stab of pity rush through him but knew better than to try showing it to Daryl. Instead, he changed the subject, "Your brother didn't seem so lucky."

"That would be the meth," Daryl said. "Nothing fucks up someone's face better than crystal."

"You never . . ?" Rick asked.

"Fuck no," Daryl said with a scoff. "I seen what happens to those damn tweakers."

Rick nodded in agreement. The last ten years, half his job had been dealing with meth heads. The rural south was a hotbed for the stuff.

"I ain't ever been into the hard shit. Merle and the guys he rode with always tried gettin' me hooked. One son-a-bitch tried jabbin' me while I was drunk. I broke his arm and three of his fingers," Daryl said with a smile. "Was a time for a while Merle got inta cookin'. I didn't hear from him for three years. Was pretty sure he was dead. Then one day he shows up, beat to hell, nothin' to his name. He never said what happened and I never asked, but he seemed ta have aged a decade. He talked me into buying him that chopper with the money I'd saved from repair work. Always said he was gonna pay me back. Heh, the first time he said it, I believed him."

"Had a guy in the department got into cocaine,” Rick said. “We caught him tryin' to swipe some from the evidence locker. I was the one that had to make the arrest. Won't ever forget the way he looked at me like it was my fault. It's always the guilt with drug addicts."

"Guilt sure is somethin', yeah? Amazing what people can get through that shit. Don't matter if they did it to themselves."

Daryl and Rick shared a long look. It was another one of their silent exchanges. Without saying it and even without implying, Rick knew Daryl was talking about Lori.

"No, it ain't like that," Rick said. "I told Lori to keep the baby. It's my responsibility. She's putting her life in danger because I was a self righteous jerk."

"Naw man. That's what she's made you think. She was the one screwin' around with Shane. They went at it every day back at the quarry. She's using guilt into makin' you take care of another man's child."

"The child is _mine_ ," Rick said, brokering no further comment.

Daryl squinted his eyes in irritation then spit on the ground. "Whatever," he mumbled as he picked up his equipment and turned to walk back to camp.

As Daryl walked away, Rick scratched off the engraving.

 

* * *

 

It had begun with small things. Maggie hugged her father longer than usual. Rick supposed he could understand the need for physical contact in such a void, but it still struck him as odd. If anything, people avoided touching each other as much as possible. They stayed in a tightly knit group and sometimes the presence was suffocating.

Beth and Jimmy had broken off their relationship completely and engaged in nothing further than a pat on the arm. Rick couldn’t remember the last time he had touched Lori. Even Glenn and Maggie were standoffish at times.

One night they had dinner and were settling down to sleep. Maggie approached her father and hugged him. She latched onto him like she would never see him again. Afterward, she sat next to Glenn and placed her head on his shoulders. The idea planted itself in Rick’s mind.

The next day, it had only festered. It was late afternoon and while everyone else was basking in the last bit of sun for the day, Glenn was fidgeting. Rick knew that look. The young man had a secret. When he knew of Lori’s pregnancy and when he learned of the barn full of walkers, he had the same look. Then he began rechecking his supplies and Rick knew what was happening.

Rick gently touched Glenn’s arm. Even that small motion caused Glenn to jump. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Now? Yeah, sure, no problem.”

Rick led him over to the edge of the camp.

 “Glenn, are you and Maggie planning to leave?” Rick asked.

Rick had meant for the question to be private, but unfortunately Daryl overheard. He sometimes forgot or possibly took for granted that Daryl always had his back.

“What the hell, man? Why the fuck you leavin’?” Daryl said storming into the conversation. Daryl’s yell garnered the attention of the rest of the group. Maggie rushed to Glenn’s side.

“This ain’t any of your business, Daryl,” Maggie all but growled.

“Daryl, we were just talking,” Glenn said, standing in front of Maggie. “We gotta consider all our options.”

“Options?” Daryl said. “You’d leave us in the lurch like that? Shake off the dead weight and go it alone?”

“I don’t think it’s wise,” Rick said. He regretted bringing the subject up but he knew he could not lose Maggie and Glenn. They were young, agile, and good fighters. What’s worse is that on their own they would not last long. He had to make them see that.

“Yeah, well, we can’t just follow you around anymore,” Maggie said, looking directly at Rick. “You said it yourself, that we were free to go any time we wanted.”

“Leave ‘um alone, Daryl,” Lori said. The group had overheard the commotion and everyone was paying attention. “They wanna leave, then let ‘um go. They don’t owe us anything.”

“No, they don’t owe _us_ anything,” Daryl snarled. “They owe Rick everything.”

“Daryl’s right,” Jimmy said.

“Jimmy,” Beth hissed. “Stay out of it.”

“No,” Daryl said. “Let him talk. Anyone else agree that we shouldn’t be bailin’ on Rick?”

“Maggie, sweetheart, I think Daryl’s right.” Hershel said. “I trust that Rick will guide us better than if we split up. We’ve made it these last 8 months because of him.”

“Daryl, if they wanna leave, it’s their choice,” Carol said in a soft voice.

“Anyone else think that way?” Daryl asked with wild, accusing eyes. No one made a motion or said a word but their eyes turned away in guilt.

“So that’s it?” Daryl spat in disgust. “Me, Hershel, and the kid are the only ones with any loyalty? Go then, ya’ll deserve whatever comes for you.”

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and stormed away from the camp. Rick motioned for Maggie and Glenn to follow him away from the others. When he thought they were out of hearing range, he held up his hands and pleaded in a soft voice, “I can’t make you two stay. I can only ask. Truth is: I need you, both of you.”

The young couple looked crestfallen. Maggie said, “Rick, it’s not that we’re abandoning you. It’s just that we want a chance to go it on our own.”

“I know,” Rick said. “I rely on two and I know it’s unfair to ask, but can you wait until after Lori’s given birth? It’s going to a scary time and it could make all the difference if you two are there for back-up. After that, if you still feel you wanna go on your own, I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Maggie and Glenn looked to each other, seeming to speak without words. After a long moment, Glenn turned back to Rick and said, “Yeah, we’ll stay. After the baby is born and things settle down, then we’ll take a look at our options.”

Rick nearly wept in relief. “Thank you,” he whispered.

As Rick walked back to the main part of the camp, Lori was back to her unemotional stare and refused to meet Rick’s eyes. Rick felt the overwhelming need to find Daryl.

Walking in the direction he had stormed off in, Rick found Daryl back at the gas station they had already cleared. He was sitting with his back against the brick wall, throwing rocks at the kudzu covered pumps. Rick walked up and stood next to him for several quiet minutes.

“You don’t have to stand up for me like that,” Rick said.

“Yer a good man. They got no right talkin’ to you like that,” Daryl said as he sprang to his feet and began pacing back and forth.

“I’m not a good man,” Rick all but whispered. It was something he had feared for so long and was finally realizing. He was the not hero he wanted to be.

“You are. Ya gotta stop hatin’ on yerself. You make the hard choices. They’d be nowhere without you and they don’t wanna admit it. You’re a damn good leader, a good father, and a good . . . husband.” Daryl said the last word with a resigned sigh.

Rick was not quite sure what spurred him to say what came next. Perhaps it was the desperate need for someone else to know the thoughts that nagged his conscience. Perhaps he was tired of being held as an idol when he was no better than anyone else.

"When I came inside Lori the last time we had sex, I wasn't thinking about her,” Rick said. Daryl abruptly stopped his pacing. Rick continued, “I was thinkin' about Shane."

"Rick, I don't think I wanna know this," Daryl said looking anywhere but at Rick.

"The last couple years, I always had to think about a man to get it up."

"Shane?"

"Not always, but the thought of fucking in the same place Shane had been was exciting."

Daryl rubbed the back of his head and asked softly, "Do you still think about him?"

"No," Rick said. "I think about you."

Daryl froze his fidgeting and looked up to stare at Rick. Rick met his gaze and pushed every bit of longing he could into his expression. Daryl stepped forward until he was mere inches from Rick. Rick was suddenly reminded of the first day they met and they had their stare down in Atlanta. That day, there had been several moments he was certain Daryl was going to kill him. He wasn't quite sure if this was another one.

Rick leaned forward ever so slightly. Daryl mirrored his movement and brought them within an inch of contact. When the beating of his heart became too much, Rick closed his eyes. Daryl's scent surrounded him. It was musky and earthy, everything Rick associated with a man.

The scent vanished quickly. In the few moments Rick had taken to close his eyes, Daryl was 20 feet away, saying, “We should head back. It’s gettin’ dark.”

Rick leaned against the side of the building and desperately willed away his erection. Daryl was becoming an obsession Rick couldn’t shake. The next day, Rick found the distraction he needed to put his feelings for the other man to the wayside. Rick found a prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I was trying to write a slow build and look what happened. I love my otp too much to keep them apart. Oh well, be ready for smut in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

_You better run_. Rick no longer recognized himself and wondered if perhaps it was frostbite. Maybe a piece of his soul had grown too cold and turned necrotic, rotting him from the inside out.  Sometime during the winter he'd left himself exposed and paid the price without ever knowing it.

Rick had thrown a kid barely older than Jimmy out into a courtyard of walkers and left him to die. It had been the coward's way out. He should've killed the man himself or helped him. His indecision and weakness yet again cost lives. Rick would've preferred that Andrew had crept in during the night and killed him. Instead, the inmate had delivered a punishment worse than death.

_"I toldya this would happen,"_ Shane said as Rick swung his machete through another walker's head. _"You know I woulda protected Lori. I woulda loved her."_

_"I_ loved her," Rick replied taking a swing at a walker in a prison uniform.

_"Once upon a time, maybe, but you've spent the past year ogling a redneck with daddy issues. That don't sound like love to me."_

"Lori chose to end it. She pushed me away after the farm."

_"Well shit. Can ya blame her? You killed her lover and then proclaimed yourself King of the Apocalypse. What were you expectin'? Some kinda congratulations?"_

"I thought she would understand."

_"Understand? What I understand is that my baby is gonna grow up an orphan 'cause of you. Lori understood that the man she married died in the line of duty. The man that came outta that coma was a cheap imitation of the father she needed for her child."_

"I tried my best."

_"That's what makes it so pathetic."_

Rick yelled and slashed at the taunting phantom, his blade only slicing air. A chuckle came from behind him. Shane was perched on an old radiator, casually kicking his feet.

_"Go on, kill a few more dozen walkers. That'll make all the difference."_

"I don't need your approval," Rick said as he bent over his knees and breathed roughly.

_"Yet here I am listening to your sad little excuses. That's all you are: a sad little excuse."_

Rick clenched his eyes and threw his machete at the silent boiler. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a sound that should no longer exist: a phone ringing. 

_"Oh, this just keeps gettin' better,"_ Shane said from his new spot in a decrepit office chair.

 

* * *

 

 

"They told me I'd find you here," Daryl said as he strode into the dingy room.

Rick hadn’t left the tombs since he entered to retrieve Lori’s body.  Somehow, he thought if he could see her one more time, the pain might be bearable, but there had been nothing left to find, only a bloated walker. Rick wondered if Daryl was yet again another hallucination. Perhaps the archer had died during the attack as well.

Rick looked up from where he was sitting against the old desk. It must have been hours ago that he ended his _call_ with Lori, but he still could not bring himself to move. The guilt and grief seemed to be devouring him from within as he lacked the strength to rise and face the group.

"I found Carol. She's alive," Daryl said.

It was new information. _He’s real,_ Rick thought with the first flames of hope beginning to flicker. Rick wearily got to his feet as he asked, "Is she okay?"

"Dehydrated and exhausted but otherwise fine. She got lucky."

"At least someone did," Rick said. Daryl grunted in response and sauntered in while looking about the room. He seemed to be trying to figure out what had held Rick's attention for so long.

"You got a baby girl out there. I went out and got her formula but it'll only last a couple weeks," Daryl said. Rick could not bring himself to react. Daryl continued his leisurely pacing and said, “I named her."

Rick reached for an answer but could find nothing. At some point he had convinced himself that the baby had been a dream.

“I’m callin’ her ‘Lil Asskicker," Daryl said with a smirk.

Rick still wouldn’t react to information about the phantom child.

“ _Yeah, just ignore us and we’ll go away_ ,” Shane said with an added, “ _Dumbass_.”

"She's tough, a fighter just like her daddy," Daryl said, walking closer to Rick.

"Shane was tough," Rick mumbled.

" _Damn straight_!" Shane interjected. Rick threw an irritated glare at his friend. Shane never was particularly sensitive to others’ feelings.  

Rick was not prepared for the stinging slap Daryl delivered to his cheek. Rick brought his hand to his face at the pain and looked at Daryl, finally, truly _looked_ at Daryl.

"Yer her daddy!" Daryl said shoving Rick against the table. "It don't matter who knocked up Lori, you are that girl's father and she needs you. Carl needs you. I . . . we all need you."

Rick’s brain began to kick into drive. Since the moment he learned of Lori’s death, his mind had been collapsing in on itself. Daryl’s words were cutting through the fog and coherent thoughts were returning at last. But with it came with painful realizations.

"This was all on me," Rick said miserably. "I brought us here and I was too stupid to save my wife. Ya'll would be better off without me."

" _Finally ya start makin' some sense,"_ Shane shouted from the corner where he was crouched.

"Rick, don't start-"

"I've been talkin' to people on the phone," Rick said, pointing at the old receiver on the desk.

"That phone?" Daryl asked and went to inspect the cursed thing. "Rick, it ain't plugged in."

"I know," Rick said as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I talked to four people before I realized they were all dead. I think the first was Amy and the second was Jim. The third must've been Jacqui." _It wasn't Shane. Shane's over in the corner._ "The last one was Lori. Even though I knew then that I weren’t talkin’ to nobody, I kept going. I just wanted to . . . apologize."

"Rick . . ." Daryl said sadly.

"I'm seein' things too," Rick confessed in a whisper as if he could say it without Shane hearing. "I'm seein' Lori and Shane. They just appear in the periphery like ghosts. I can’t shake ‘um."

"I see Merle sometimes," Daryl said to Rick's surprise. "That day I was thrown by that horse, I talked to Merle for a long time. I see my daddy sometimes, too. Once in a long while, I even see my momma. When you got stress and hardship, your mind put's things there to help."

" _He's as crazy as you_!" Shane said with a laugh.

Rick turned his head to fix Shane with another glare, wishing the man would shut his big mouth for once. Daryl noticed the movement and caught Rick's face in his hands.

"Dammit, Rick! It's just you and me right now. They's dead and we're alive. You gotta focus on what's real."

"How can I know the difference?" _Is there any returning from this?_

Daryl answered Rick with a crushing kiss. It was a rough clash of lips and hurt more than anything. When Daryl pulled back, his voice husky, he said, " _This_ is real. As long as I'm around, I'll be there to show you what's true."

Rick leaned forward and rested his forehead against Daryl's. Gently, Daryl moved down and kissed Rick's neck just under his ear. A shiver went down Rick's spine and seemed to land in his groin. He was stirring to life and that's when it hit him: life. He was still alive and the man he'd been wanting for the past half a year was holding him in his arms.

Rick clutched at Daryl’s back and pressed their bodies flush. His growing erection intensified when it rubbed against Daryl’s firm thigh.

Daryl's kisses traveled from Rick's neck back to his mouth where his tongue carefully begged permission. Rick welcomed Daryl with a low moan. Lori had never kissed Rick that way with such desperation. Rick wondered how she kissed Shane. Was she soft and giving like she was with Rick or was she rough and needy like Rick was with Daryl. Daryl seemed to notice Rick's mind wandering and brought him back with a painful nip at Rick's bottom lip.

Rick yelped in surprise but Daryl only pulled him closer and whispered in his ear, "When you're with me, you're with me." He drove home his point with a bite to Rick's earlobe. He then grabbed Rick by the hand and began to pull him to the door.

"Where we goin'?"

"To get you cleaned up," Daryl said, gripping Rick's hand tighter. "Yer gonna go see yer baby girl, but you ain't goin' lookin' like that."

Thankfully, the shower was empty as Rick wanted no one besides Daryl to see him in such a state. He especially didn't want Carl witnessing him looking so deranged. It was bad enough his son saw his breakdown in the courtyard. Rick wished he were a stronger man and could've shown a brave face for Carl who had just been through something so harrowing. _Shane was right: I'm weak._

"Stop it," Daryl said.

"Stop what?" Rick asked.

"This," Daryl said, motioning vaguely at Rick. "I can tell when yer doubtin' yerself. You get this cold, distant sorta look."

"Lori used to say that," Rick said but instantly realized that was the wrong thing as Daryl's face flushed with anger. Daryl grabbed up a bucket of rain water and splashed the entire thing in Rick's face. With a feral growl, Daryl launched himself at Rick and violently ripped the bloody T-shirt from his body.

Rick could only sputter with shock while Daryl took a rag and dunked it into another bucket. For a moment, Rick swore that Daryl was about the whip him with the wet rag but instead he brought it up to Rick's chest and gently wiped away the dried blood. As he did so, he brushed Rick's nipples and caused a shudder to sweep through his body. Daryl noticed the reaction and repeated his movement. Rick released a small moan of appreciation. It seemed to spur Daryl on even more as he took his empty hand and pinched the nipple firmly, earning a loud hiss from Rick.

Daryl looked down to examine the sizeable erection Rick had bulging in his jeans.

"Dammit, Grimes," he muttered as he reached down, unbuttoned, and unzipped Rick's pants before roughly shoving them to Rick's knees. It had been a long time since Rick had bothered with underwear. He put a hand against Rick's chest and shoved him back against the tiled wall. Crouching down, he nearly threw Rick to the ground when he seized Rick's foot and pulled off his boot. Rick could barely steady himself when Daryl repeated the movement for the other foot.

After tossing the boots off against the wall, Daryl began on Rick's jeans and awkwardly pulled them one leg at time then threw the filthy things over to join the boots. Daryl then took a moment to look over Rick's naked body. "Shit," he whispered with a tone of awe.

Any other time in his life, Rick would’ve felt degraded, humiliated at his position but in front of Daryl Dixon, he felt _desired_. Daryl eyed him with a hunger Rick had never been subject to. While he had never felt bereft of a sexual drive, Rick suddenly realized that what he thought was lust paled in comparison to his true capacity. His body physically ached for Daryl’s touch as his lungs threatened to collapse under the weight of their held breath.

When Daryl reached for his cock, Rick swore the other man was nearly hesitant. Rick whispered, “Hey,” to draw Daryl’s gaze. When their eyes met, Rick gave a small nod and it gave Daryl exactly needed to know: his touch was wanted.  Daryl’s hand was a shock. Rick had never experienced another man’s touch intimately and he was surprised at the difference. Daryl had calluses along his fingers and palm with short, almost nonexistent nails. His grip was strong and nearly painful but Rick welcomed it.

Daryl stroked him slowly at first but soon began to pick up speed. Rick’s back arched when Daryl rubbed his thumb over his leaking slit, nearly bringing him to climax right there. Not wanting it to be over too soon, Rick pushed back into Daryl’s space and began peppering kisses along his neck. He brought his hand down and groped at the bulge in Daryl’s jeans.

Taking Daryl’s moans as invitation, Rick unbuttoned the jeans and slid down the fly so he could fit his hand within. Daryl’s cock was as hard as his own and Rick’s own passion flared at the feeling of their shared arousal. Rick mimicked Daryl’s movements until, with a nip to Daryl’s earlobe, Rick moved his hand down to cup his balls and roll them gently. The action was too much for Daryl to take and with a loud grunt Daryl came across Rick’s stomach.  

Daryl paused his stroking for a moment to catch his breath and Rick marveled in the beauty of his face relaxed from orgasm. It still bewildered him that Daryl was his senior by four years. At that the moment, the man looked so young Rick almost felt guilty for desiring him with such intensity. Rick brought his hand down around Daryl’s and led him back to his stroking. With his other hand, Rick clasped Daryl’s face, drawing him into a deep kiss.

When Rick came, his weary mind finally snapped into place and the realization of what he had just done hit home. It was an odd thing to feel such joy after a time of such sorrow. For that was what he felt: joy. Daryl was his beacon and his anchor all in one.

They held each other for a long moment until Daryl stepped back and Rick slumped to the floor, boneless against the wall.

With a slight smile, Rick ran his fingers through their combined seed and rubbed it against his belly. Daryl tucked himself back into his jeans and retrieved another bucket of water. He sat it down next to Rick then went to fetch a bar of soap and a washcloth.

“Clean yerself up and I’ll go get ya some clean clothes,” Daryl said. The man then hesitated before crouching down and placing a kiss to Rick’s wet forehead.

Once Daryl left, Rick obediently went about washing himself. It wasn’t as refreshing as a shower would’ve been but it did the job of breathing life in Rick’s fatigued body. By the time he was finished, the water in the bucket was near black with filth and the towel’s original white color was stained beyond recognition.

Daryl returned with a pair of jeans and a blue flannel top, the one Rick had been saving; for what, he didn’t know. As he buttoned the shirt, Daryl stood behind him and towel dried his hair. Once he was dressed, Rick stepped back and held out his arms, saying, “How do I look?”

“You’ll do.” Rick noticed a small smile on Daryl’s lips as he said it. Taking a step forward, Rick kissed those lips and gave Daryl a small hug. Daryl returned the hug with an encouraging pat on Rick’s back. He then walked toward the door, leading Rick toward the cell block they called home.

At the bottom of the stairs, Beth was holding the baby and Jimmy was standing next to her, cooing nonsense words. When he saw Rick, the kid smiled and motioned for Beth to look up.

"She has Lori's eyes," Beth said as she handed the baby over to Rick. The newborn felt small and delicate as if Rick could break her with the smallest movement, but she was the most beautiful thing Rick had ever seen. When she looked up at him, directly into his eyes, Rick knew he was done for. The little girl had just become his reason to live.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rick saw someone watching them. It wasn't the muscular outline of Shane but instead a waifish figure clothed in white.  But Rick could not do it. Rick couldn't stand to see _her_ in that moment. Instead, he moved the baby closer to the window so he could watch her face with the sun shining on it. Her eyes squinted in the light and Rick was reminded of Daryl when he was feeling particularly sour. Looking up he smiled warmly when he saw Daryl leaning on the railing, gazing down at him. He nodded his thanks and Daryl returned it.

At that moment, Rick wished Daryl were standing next to him. It felt wrong to have Daryl even fifty feet away. It was a needy, selfish feeling Rick had not had since he was a teenager, and Rick was glad to have it.


	4. Chapter 4

Judith liked to smile. Carl could hardly believe that a child born into such devastation and grief would smile so often and so wide. She exuded love and warmth as well as a fascination with the simplest things. When not sleeping or eating, she could spend hours contemplating the complexity of her own foot. She was truly innocent. Carl had fully expected to resent the child to some degree, but it never happened. He loved her with every inch of his heart, not a single reservation.  

In many ways, she was the first person to ever depend on him. To everyone else he was little Carl, the boy, the child, but to Judith, he was her protector. She was completely helpless, couldn't do a thing on her own and he relished taking care of her.

He wasn't the only one. Daryl took a surprising interest in her and even gave her nicknames. Carol acted as a surrogate mother and assumed leadership of the baby's care. Jimmy was working on a crib since he developed a talent for woodworking during the winter. Beth took over babysitting whenever possible. Carl’s favorite time of the day was spending time with Judith and Beth.

Some point during the winter, Beth and Jimmy had broken up but they were still friends. While Jimmy's preferred pastime was following Carl's dad around like an eager puppy, he mostly built things and chatted with Beth. Sometimes Carl joined in but all too often they would start in with stories from school and their friends, then Carl would be lost. Carl had always wanted to experience high school but it looked like that would never happen.

It was late afternoon of a blistering hot day. Most people were taking shelter inside to avoid the heat except for Carl's dad, who was checking the perimeter, again. Beth was playing guitar and singing for Judith while Jimmy sat nearby whittling something that Carl couldn't quite make out yet. Carl sat on the other side of the room and tried to read, but he was having trouble concentrating.  Beth had a beautiful voice.

Suddenly, Beth stopped her playing and scrunched her nose. "Time for someone's diaper change," she announced cheerfully while looking at Jimmy.

"No, I believe it's your turn," Jimmy said. "I did it this morning."

"Yeah, but I did it after lunch," Beth returned.

"Beth . . ." Jimmy whined.

Beth rolled her eyes and said, "Fine, I'll do the changing but you have to throw it out."

"Deal," Jimmy said as he set aside his knife.

"When I say throw it out, I mean outside not in Daryl's cell."

Jimmy laughed before stopping himself and saying calmly, "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Jimmy began walking up the stairs as Beth gathered Judith and followed. Carl watched her as she left. The afternoon sun shined on her hair and seemed to make it glow.

"Better close your mouth or you'll start drooling," someone said from behind him.

Carl snapped around to see a smirking Carol.

Carl considered denial but instead sighed and said, "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, when you know what to look for . . ." Carol said, trailing off. "It’s little things. You always have such a fond smile when she enters the room. You laugh at her jokes even when they aren't funny. When she tells you to do something, you do it."

"I do not."

"She told you go get Judith's bottle and you practically sprinted for it."

"So?"

"Your dad asked you the same thing yesterday and you ignored him."

Carl lowered his head. He tried to be nicer to his dad but sometimes he forgot and sometimes he just didn't feel like it. Daryl would’ve chewed him out if he knew that.

"She thinks I'm a kid."

"That's 'cause you are." Carol said with a pinch to Carl's cheek. Carl pulled away from her with a petulant jerk. "Maybe you should try helping her put together that playpen we found yesterday."

"You think that'll help?"

"Couldn't hurt," Carol said. "Remember: if the ladies don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy." 

Carl crossed his arms and Carol began laughing. "You are too easy to tease."

Carl could do nothing but pout as Carol walked away with a big grin on her face. Returning to his book, Carl mulled over what Carol had said and wondered if it really was that easy to know if someone liked someone else. He would find out only an hour later when Glenn approached Daryl with a blatantly obvious lie.

"Hey, Daryl," Glenn said as he came downstairs. "I'm not feelin' so great today, would you mind covering my guard shift?"

"No way," Daryl said, not even looking up from sharpening his knife. "Power through it like the rest of us."

Glenn rolled his eyes and headed toward the door. Anyone could tell he was just looking to spend more time with Maggie. At first Carl had been fascinated when he figured out what they were doing with each other but that quickly faded to mild irritation. Maggie may have been pretty but he could only think of her as a big sister at that point. _If it had been Beth_ . . . Carl shook away that thought, hoping it would never happen.

About a half hour later, Rick came in from outside nearly drenched in sweat. Daryl jumped to his feet and fixed a cup of water for him to which Rick smiled and nodded in thanks.

After taking a drink, Rick said, "Glenn's feelin' a bit under the weather. Would you mind covering his guard shift tonight?"

"Yeah, no problem," Daryl said.

"Thanks," Rick said, taking another long gulp from the water bottle. "I have the morning shift so I could get up early, keep you company for a couple hours."

"Bring me breakfast and you have a deal," Daryl said.

"What would you like?"

"Eggs, hash browns, and bacon," Daryl said. Rick burst out laughing and patted Daryl's shoulder.

_It wasn't that funny,_ Carl thought. Then he froze, nearly dropping the book in his hands. All the pieces fell into place. _My dad likes Daryl and Daryl likes my dad._

Carl stood and abruptly left the room. He made a beeline for his cell, the closest thing he had to a bedroom in over a year. Carl wasn't as naïve as his parents liked to think. He knew what being gay was. He even knew what being bisexual was (Carl supposed that was the more appropriate term). He watched TV, he went to public school; Carl knew that being gay was a natural thing for some people. He just never imagined _some people_ would include his dad.

_My dad likes Daryl_. If Carl tried he couldn't imagine a person less like his mother than Daryl Dixon. Daryl wasn’t bossy, he only gave his opinion when it was asked, and he never talked about feelings. That wasn’t to say that Carl disliked his mother, he just understood that she was a very different person than Daryl. He wondered if perhaps that difference was what his father liked so much.

Parents always seem to think their children are unaware of their fights. Carl knew he parents weren't happy together. They would have their fights when they thought he was asleep. When Carl was eight, the school counselor spoke to his class about divorce. She told them that even if parents loved each other, sometimes they could no longer be together.  Carl logically knew his parents would be better apart but he desperately hoped it would never happen.

His mom had been devastated when his dad was shot on duty, but after the Turn, she never mentioned him again. Carl wondered later if it was because she had already imagined a life without him. Shane was fun. Carl loved spending time with him and was grateful he took care of them, but Shane was not his father.  There was a part of him that was always scared of Shane where he never was with his dad. 

_Daryl likes my dad_. There wasn't a person in the world Carl felt safer with than Daryl. No matter what happened, Daryl kept a cool head. He didn't need to follow Rick, but he did anyway. He was Rick's best friend but not like Shane was. Daryl trusted Rick and never questioned him. He did what was best for Rick. His mom had never looked at his dad the way Daryl looked at his dad. 

Carl wondered if maybe they belonged together. It would certainly be a relief knowing his dad had someone like Daryl looking out for him. It was Daryl who had sought him out after his mother's death. Carl thought his dad would never come out of those tombs again but Daryl went in and brought him back. Everyone seemed to think Daryl did it for Judith but Carl knew the real reason.

That night, Carl went to his father's cell. Rick was lying above the covers, snoozing lightly but jolted when Carl called for him.

"Judith!" Rick said, looking around wildly.

"She's fine," Carl said.

Rick let out a sigh and sat up, running his hands through his hair. "What's goin' on, Carl?"

"Nothin' important," Carl said. "Just thought we could talk is all."

Carl could barely stomach the way his father's eyes lit up at the suggestion. _Maybe I_ am _too mean to him,_ Carl wondered. Rick motioned for Carl to join him on the bed but Carl walked over and leaned on the sink instead. He wanted to look as much like a man as he could muster.

After a few minutes of awkwardly looking around the room, Carl asked, "How are you holdin' up, Dad?"

Rick cocked his head, seemingly confused by the question. "I'm fine. I'm doin' just fine. How have you been? I know I haven't been there for you like I should and-"

"Dad, you don't have to worry about me. I'm just wondering if you're _feeling_ better."

"Yeah, I am," Rick said with a forced smile.

"You've been spendin' a lot of time with Daryl," Carl said watching for a response.

As he thought would happen, his dad flinched. "He's been . . . helpful."

"Good," Carl replied. "I'm glad you're friends. Daryl's a really great guy. He ain't anything like Merle. That guy was scary."

"Yes he was," Rick said.

"But Daryl really cares about people," Carl continued. "He loves Judith and he always looks out for you. I'm glad he's with us."

"Me too," Rick said with a small smile.

After another long silence, Carl said, "You know, I don't think Mom would've wanted you to be alone."

Rick looked up, perplexed and said, “Is that so?”

“Mom woulda wanted you to be happy,” Carl replied. “She woulda wanted you to be with someone who made you happy, someone who’d take care of you.”

Carl could see the thoughts racing across his father’s mind and hoped he had made himself clear. Finally Rick had finished processing Carl’s words and said, “Thank you, Carl.”

“Anytime, Dad,” Carl said, trying not to look too smug. It wasn’t everyday that a son got to impart life lessons to his father. As he left the cell, he noticed Beth sitting alone of the stairs, looking out the window. He made it all the way to the first step before he fled back to his room. _Tomorrow_ , Carl promised himself, _tomorrow I'll talk to her alone_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter :) 
> 
> I like to think that Carl would be super supportive of his dad. I work with kids and I'm always amazed at their capacity for acceptance. I've found that when hate comes from a child, it usually comes from a parent first. 
> 
> Ugh, I'm so preachy sometimes.


End file.
